Summertime Blues

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. No persons under the age of 18 are depicted in any sexual activity. Copyright 2011, by the author. All rights reserved.

"It's too damn hot," thought Danny Jameson as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it away.

He had hoped, his thoughts continued over the roar of the lawnmower, that by age 23 he'd be finished with mowing yards. That was what kids did, teenagers, for pocket money.

Danny was beyond that, having a real job with Global Shipping Systems loading delivery trucks at night. In at 10, off at six, sleep till noon.

Sweet!

That left plenty of time for play in the day, and the gym. It was decent money too. Still living with his parents, it seemed like a gold mine.

Looking down at his tanned torso and muscular arms vibrating by the mower's motor, he was proud of his body.

"Maybe not be so pretty in the face," he thought, "but hot in the core. Six foot three and solid."

He knew it; his girlfriends told him so as they pressed their bodies into his.

"Yeah," Danny thought and grinned inwardly, "hot in the core."

The lawn he was cutting belonged to Mrs. Davies.

The younger kids in the neighborhood called her "old lady Davies."

Danny didn't see her as being 'old.' Not in the least.

He had been mowing her lawn since he was 17 and found out rather sneakily that she was 40 when he had started. While he was doing some other yard work for her, she invited him inside for iced tea.

Danny saw her driver's license on the kitchen table and checked her birthday.

Now she was 46, and she was gorgeous.

No, not just pretty – she was drop dead gorgeous.

No wrinkles or lines, no stretch marks, not one gray hair.

Sometimes Mrs. Davies would lie on her patio in a bikini while he worked. She was curvy and womanly – mature – tall and stately at five feet, ten inches. He found her body sexier than the bodies of most of his 19 or 20 year old dates.

And she lived two houses away.

Sarah Davies had been married, but her husband had been killed in a job related accident several years back. She was active within the community doing volunteer work and such. Otherwise, she didn't appear to have a paying job. Rumors were she received a large monetary settlement after her husband's death.

Danny didn't think she had any children; he also noticed she didn't seem to go out on dates or with friends too often. She was a nice lady and everyone in town seemed to like her.

Sarah had always been nice to him.

Six years on, and his crush on her was as intensive as it had ever been. He raised the mower over an exposed tree root and continued his work.

Danny had mowed lots of lawns in his young life. Mowing lawns was what considered as his first "real" job.

Danny was smart too, saving most of what he earned. He had a reputation among his neighbors for being punctual and for doing a thorough job and this led to a decent fall and spring business cleaning gutters and roofs.

Over the years, he built up quite a list of clients.

Danny always went after the larger yards; 'more green means more green,' he liked to say, leaving the smaller yards to other neighborhood kids.

Danny liked most of his customers. They were kind and friendly to him, always having a check or cash ready by the time he finished.

Of course, there were a few that he didn't care for.

Mrs. Faulkner was his worst. She was a stick thin, miserable, shriveled, old widow woman; a bitch really, who watched his every move from behind thick heavy curtains as he mowed.

While her husband was alive, they had been notorious for their screaming fights, often heard three and four houses away.

Danny was certain that her husband died on purpose to get away from her. People said she didn't attend the funeral.

Her watching him made him uneasy.

One of his friends teased that she was probably getting herself off behind the curtains.

The very thought made Danny's skin crawl.

Each time she opened her door, a stale, moldy, and musty smell would engulf his nose.

Two of the checks she had paid him with bounced; one, she had never made good on. She never invited him in, for which he was grateful.

He wouldn't have gone anyway.

Then there was Winthrop Castlegate.

He was never around when his lawn was cut and in his yard were beds of exquisite flowers, so vibrant in color; passing cars would slow or even stop to look.

Danny hated the flowers. Not only were they in his way. The flowers attracted clouds of bees.

He had been stung twice already this summer.

Danny worked at other jobs too. The worst had been at Burgerland.

It didn't last long. Danny quit after two weeks when the manager made him watch a 45 minute video about serving french fries.

"What the fuck?" he thought. "How freakin' complicated is it to serve french fries?"

Another job was at the Rolling Rock Mall Bookseller, but the store had closed suddenly and without notice.

Danny went to work one afternoon to find the windows papered over and the doors locked.

A mall maintenance worker was removing the store sign from over the door, to which a note was taped saying thank you to loyal customers and that all employees would receive their paychecks by mail.

So, he returned to the lawns and the gutters until he finished school and could get a full time job. A 'real' job.

Global Shipping Systems now provided that job.

Danny knew his lawn customers liked him. They didn't want him to quit.

"Quit complaining," he thought.

Still, at 23, he was feeling foolish cutting grass for money.

Perhaps he should pass the reigns to a younger generation. Give someone else a chance. Turn over the clientele and "retire."

He smiled at the thought and rounded the base of a tree with the mower, then leaned into the handlebar, pushing on.

But not Mrs. Davies, no not her. He would continue to mow her lawn.

Truthfully, she's why he kept mowing lawns.

Mrs. Davies was his favorite customer, and not only because of his crush on her.

She was his "lucky charm."

He always seemed to be in the right place at the right time when something would happen to fuel his interest in her.

Once the wind billowed up her skirt and revealed her beautiful round bottom. She wore lacey white panties.

Another time she came outside while he was working to tell him something about a problem tree in the yard.

Danny saw Sarah wasn't wearing a bra and as she walked toward him, her full, large breasts moved rhythmically under her t-shirt with each step, her nipples hard and brown, pressed pointedly against the white fabric.

Danny realized Sarah was watching him closely as she moved towards him. Only after she made eye contact with him, direct and bold, did she move her arms across herself.

Then she smiled a shy, sweet smile.

Last year, he noticed her underwear hanging on a makeshift clothesline across the backyard. Glancing to see if anyone was about, he looked at one of her bras to see the size.

The label was faded. He could make out 36D...maybe DD.

He went to a pair of panties and looked in the waist band.

Faded again, but readable. A size 6.

No wonder he spent so many nights masturbating to his fantasies of her; fantasies born in his imagination and burned into his memory. In his mind, this woman was damn near perfect.

But something was happening.

Danny couldn't help but notice these 'chance' events seemed to be more frequent and less by chance.

Two weeks ago, when he arrived to mow her lawn, Sarah called him to the back door. When he got there, she was just buttoning her blouse, her bra nearly fully exposed to him.

Danny had quickly looked away, surprised more than embarrassed, but blushing nonetheless.

Earlier in the summer, Sarah was showing him another tree branch she wanted trimmed. She stood behind him to point it out, leaning against him as she did.

Danny felt the full press of her breasts, warm and soft, against his back.

Just last month, Sarah came outside to work while he was mowing. She was wearing a flowing yellow sun dress, and knelt in her garden. As she reached for one plant or another, her legs would open slightly – just enough once or twice so that it was clear for Danny to see she wasn't wearing panties.

He had been able to look down her shirt more times than he could count.

Then there was Sarah's sunbathing on her back deck, always in a bikini, always with the top untied. She even asked him to re-tie it one time.

Danny enjoyed all of these things, of course, but never openly acknowledged this to Sarah.

The best memory he had of her happened three years ago.

He was 20; Mrs. Davies would have been 43.

Danny had gone to her house to cut the grass. But unlike his other customers, he always wanted to say hello to her before he started.

The back door swung open against his knocking.

The air inside was thick and humid. Water was running.

The shower.

He heard singing.

Danny knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to look.

He started in and the water shut off.

Danny froze, waiting, his heart pounding.

A shadow moved across the floor in front of him, slowing, hesitating, and then continuing.

A door creaked. The soft singing resumed.

Danny stepped quietly forward and paused. He turned his neck to see.

Sarah was standing in her bedroom, her back to the door, naked and wet, her beautiful round ass bared for him to see. .

Bending forward, she patted the towel down her lean, tanned, and freshly shaven legs.

Danny trembled as he watched the delicate folds of her sex peek and wink from between her thighs.

Her full breasts hung like magnificent jewels, swaying gently with her movements, the brown nipples hard and thick like thimbles.

Holy shit.

A pair of lacy blue lace panties and a matching bra were hanging from the bedpost.

Danny's heart was now beating itself to death in his chest. His hand went to his crotch, squeezing his growing and swelling shaft.

Holy Shit.

What if she saw him?

Sarah stood, and swung the towel over her head. She gathered her long wet hair in it, wadding it into a drying turban.

Old Mrs. Davies then picked up the panties and stepped into them, pulling them up and over her delicious ass.

Danny quietly slipped out. He stumbled on the stairs and ran home, leaving the lawnmower and gas can on her sidewalk.

The rough fabric of his jeans was painful against his still swelling penis, making it raw as he ran. His balls were aching blue and his heart pounded hard, fueling his passion for the vision he had just seen.

Danny burst through the backdoor of his parent's house.

He ran past his startled sister, knocking a glass of water from her hand, the glass shattering on the floor.

Once in his room, he slammed and locked the door and sat on the edge of his bed, pants around his ankles.

He spat into his hand and teased his cock head with the wetness.

Gripping his hot cock, he began stroking.

There was a banging at his door.

"Go away!" he yelled.

He heard his sister's muffled voice.

"What's your freakin' problem, dipshit?"

"Go away!" he yelled louder, harsher.

"Geez," she muttered.

"Fuckhead," she yelled and slammed the door hard with her fist.

"You're gonna be in deep shit trouble!"

Her steps padded away. Danny's focus returned to his cock.

Closing his eyes he saw Sarah Davies standing naked before him.

He saw her beautiful breasts and thick long nipples. He saw her fantastic round ass, and the moist delicate folds of her pussy, wisps of curly dark hair showing between her smooth and soft thighs as she bent before him.

Danny saw her long dark hair hanging in wet strands half way down her back.

He saw her sexy lingerie, hanging from the bedpost, and remembered the blue lace sliding over her beautiful ass.

It was her hand on his cock now; her spit.

Oh yeah...

Danny closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed, stroking harder, faster, cupping his balls with his other hand, squeezing gently.

He wanted to go slow, as he knew Mrs. Davies would if she was jacking his dick, but he couldn't.

Danny could see her full lips moving; hear her melodious voice singing, calling to him and as hot spurts of cum streamed onto his chest and belly, his body stiff with pleasure.

Danny lay on his back sweating and panting heavily.

He released his grip on his softening dick, letting it flop onto his lower belly, his hot cum running down his sides and onto the sheets.

That night his parents asked him why he burst into the house as if he was being chased by a pack of dogs, scaring his baby sister half to death.

"What happened?" they wanted to know.

"Nothing," Danny had told them. "I left my wallet here and came back for it. I was in a hurry."

The lawnmower and gas can had stayed in Mrs. Davies yard until the next morning. He had been afraid to return that day.

Danny laughed softly at the memory.

The yard was finished.

He stopped the lawnmower, went to the front door and knocked.

Mrs. Davies opened the door, and seeing it was Danny, smiled.

Suddenly he felt self conscious at remembering how he jerked off to this woman, embarrassed at remembering all of the orgasmic rushes his fantasies of her had brought to him.

Sarah was radiant and beautiful, wearing an off white colored sundress of thin cotton. Reflected sunlight from the room behind her cast her in a soft silhouette and made the dress veil-like, her form outlined underneath.

Danny couldn't believe his eyes.

Sarah was wearing the lacy blue bra and lacy blue panties he had seen in her room three years ago. The dark color and lacy pattern were clearly visible against the gauzy dress.

He would know them anywhere.

Mrs. Davies long brown hair fell about her shoulders. Her deep chocolate eyes locked onto him, making him her prisoner.

Danny stammered. He looked to the left and right, struggling to speak.

"....ummm...uh, Mrs. Davies?"

She smiled sweetly and leaned against the open doorway.

"Yes Danny?"

He began to sweat even more.

"I'm finished with the yard now" he said.

"Uh...I...umm...just wanted to tell you."

Danny smiled weakly.

Sarah took his hand in hers.

"You look damn near over heated. Come in and have some iced tea, alright?"

Danny staggered, nearly falling under her pull.

"Yes, ma'm. That'd be...that'd be good. Thanks Mrs. Davies."

She shut the door.

"Danny, you're what now...22?"

He swallowed hard.

"Ma'am? Uh...I'm 23."

"Ah. 23. Good." she said.

"Well it's time you call me Sarah. And don't call me ma'am."

She looked at him moistening her lips slightly, then winked and smiled. "At least not all the time."

Sarah turned and led him into the house.

"Oh, and Danny, remind me to see that you're paid today too."

With a start, Danny suddenly realized he was shirtless and that he smelled of sweat, lawn, and gas.

In the kitchen, she pulled a chair out from the table and gestured towards it, nearly pushing him into it. The wood was a shock of cold against his back and he jerked forward. Sarah got two glasses from the cupboard, filled them with ice and poured hot steaming tea over the smoky cubes.

"I wanted to ask..." she was saying when her phone rang.

"Excuse me," she said and brushed by him.

Danny looked around.

He had been in her kitchen several times before, but only briefly. He realized it had never been for this long. Sarah always offered him iced tea, but usually, he took it outside. Dishes and glasses were arranged neatly in glass front cabinets and cupboards; racks holding spices and herbs sat on the countertop near the sink; a dish towel hung from a clip under the cabinet over the sink. A microwave oven sat near one corner.

Danny felt uneasy, nervous. The chill of the cool interior air was making his sweaty body feel chilled.

Sarah returned to the kitchen.

"Sorry 'bout that," she said.

"It's ok. I don't mean to keep you; I can get that tea another time," he said and stood.

She put his tea on the table in front of him, the ice still melting and smoking. He sipped the cool liquid; it was sweet with a hint of lemon.

"Plumbing?" he asked as she walked back to the counter.

"Yes dear, plumbing."

She nudged the cabinet door beneath the sink with her right foot.

"Under here. There's something wrong with the drain, I think. Would you look for me?"

Her foot lingered against the dark of the cabinet, blue painted toenails bright against the deep amber wood. His eyes traced her leg; lightly tanned, supple and smooth to her knee, where the split in her dress revealed a trim, silky thigh.

Sarah smiled and lowered her gaze on him.

Her eyes melted his insides. Danny took another sip of tea.

"Yes ma'm....uh...I mean sure, I don't know anything about plumbing, but I guess I could look."

He tilted the glass back again. The ice surged, rushing at his mouth, pushing the chilled sweet liquid before it. Tea and ice splashed over his chest and onto his jeans.

"Son of a bitch!" he shouted and jumped up; then remembering where he was, blushed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "it was pretty cold. Surprised me." Looking down at his body, he thought it looked as if he had pissed his pants.

Danny looked at Sarah.

"Sorry," he said. "If you give me a towel, I'll clean it up."

Sarah smiled slyly and grabbed the dish towel from the clip under the cabinet. Danny reached for it; she lightly brushed his hand aside.

Sarah began dabbing the tea from his body, around his nipples and on his belly, her free hand clasping his shoulder. Her eyes traced the lines of his muscular chest and stomach; her hand felt the six-pack of his abdominals through the thin fabric of the towel.

Heat began to rise within her.

She was so close to him he could feel her breath graze his nipples and shoulders; her soft brown hair brushed his body in sweeps as she dabbed with the towel, her warm fingertips dragging across his skin frequently.

Electricity surged through him and blood rushed to his groin.

The lacy blue bra Sarah wore was clearly visible when she leaned across him and he watched as the tail of the towel slid across his wet blue jean covered crotch. He noticed for the first time that her fingernails were long and that they were also painted blue with intricate detailed patterns, almost like lace.

"There," she said standing upright again.

"Now we have to get those wet pants off."

Danny's eyes went wide. He stared at her in shock and then laughed, folding his arms across his chest, blushing.